


to perish twice

by whichlights



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Captain Sparklez is Tubbo's Dad, Gen, Immortal Philza, Immortal technoblade, Immortals, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, War Crimes, Worldbuilding, antarctic empire au, if you are familiar with the work of robert frost, just not as a nuclear family yknow, philza is wilbur's dad, please know i so so deeply hate every tag with their actual irl names attached, political intrigue TM, yeah thats right baby its sleepy bois time, you will probably enjoy my chapter naming conventinos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichlights/pseuds/whichlights
Summary: (some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice)The facts are these: Dream has threatened war on L'manburg. President Soot intends to fight back. The Antarctic Empire is ruled by two immortals whose worst kept secret is their own immortality, and they will stand with L'manburg no matter the cost.The truth is this: No one wants to admit the whole story.The story starts like this: The end of the world begins when Tommy is swept up in the politics of gods who play war for fun.
Relationships: Captain Sparklez & Tubbo & Crumb Cuptoast, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Philza & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Philza, Technoblade & Ranboo, TommyInnit & Tubbo (Dream SMP), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 57
Kudos: 147





	1. some say the world

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I've been working on this shit for weeks so behold the fruits of my labor. 
> 
> This is not RPF !!! I am writing solely about the characters portrayed for roleplay and characterized icons. 
> 
> Tags are going to be updated as more chapters are updated- I have the entire fic planned out, and multiple later chapters are going to contain graphic depictions of violence. These chapters will be marked and warned for, and a summary will be provided in the end notes. 
> 
> Everyone give a thank you to my friend, Tory umbreeonic, for not only putting up with my bs at midnight, but for helping me with editing. 
> 
> To the best of my knowledge, I haven't overstepped any of the boundaries of the creators while writing about the characters they portray. If they were to be uncomfortable with this content, I would take down this fic immediately.

The first hint that something had gone wrong was the yelling. 

Tommy turned towards the loud noise immediately, pausing in his pursuit of Tubbo. Crumb skittered to a stop, ears pressed to her head. Tubbo came to stand next to Tommy, the game of tag forgotten. 

There was a man walking through the streets of L’manburg City, heading towards the plaza. On its own, that wasn’t too strange - Tommy himself was a guy who walked through the streets of L’manburg often. But, he usually didn’t have people yelling at him as he walked. 

The man inciting the yelling had glowing eyes, and a billowing green cape tipped with fur. He had an arm wrapped around another man, shorter than him, bringing him forward as he walked. People followed him, yelling, but none of them were stepping too close. 

There were too many overlapping voices - Tommy got the sense that most were only yelling to be loud. “Tubbo, do you know who that guy is?” Tommy asked, stepping back on principle. 

“Kids!” Tommy turned to see Tubbo’s dad running towards them. The Captain scooped up Crumb in his arms, putting himself between them and the growing crowd. “Kids, get inside.”

“What’s happening?” Tommy demanded. “Who the fuck is that?"

The Captain pressed Crumb into Tubbo’s arms. “Someone very powerful, and very pissed off. Tubs, take care of your sister. Get inside, stay hidden, stay safe.”

Tubbo nodded, cradling the trembling calico kitten. “Okay,” he said, voice trembling to match. 

“What is happening!” Tommy demanded again. The crowd was pressing towards the plaza. 

The Captain pushed them towards the house, and pulled out his gleaming purple sword. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I know it’s not good. Now _go_.”

Tubbo grabbed Tommy’s hand, dragging him home. The run to the edge of the main plaza was quick, even with his sister squirming in Tubbo's arms. “Hey!” Crumb protested. “I can walk!”

“You’re very small,” Tubbo apologized. “I don’t want you to get lost or- or stepped on!”

Tommy tried to look back at the commotion. “I want to see!” He protested. 

“People of L’manburg!” A voice rang out. The roar of the crowd grew louder, drowning it out. 

“We really shouldn’t,” Tubbo insisted. “The Captain said-”

“He’s not my dad, I don’t have to listen to him,” Tommy argued. “I want to see."

Tubbo’s expression was pleading. “Well, _I_ have to listen to him, and I don’t want to leave you.” 

Tommy relented, and kept pace with Tubbo as they approached his house. Tubbo let go of Tommy’s hand to fish out his key ring, unlocking the back door and ushering everyone inside. Tommy tried to give another glance back to the commotion, but only ended up looking at Tubbo’s panicked face. He went inside. 

Tubbo locked the door behind them, giving a shaky breath. He set Crumb down, and she started pacing in circles around his feet. 

“Do you know who that was?” Tommy asked. “That guy in the green cape?”

“I- I think that’s Dream.” 

“Dream?” The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. By the look on Tubbo’s face, he wasn’t a great person to have around. He looked like he was going to be sick. 

“Yeah. Captain talks about him sometimes. He stops when I’m nearby, though.” 

“Well,” Tommy said. “Dream sounds like a bitch.”

Tubbo laughed a little. “Yeah, Wilbur- I mean, President Soot thinks he’s a bitch. I heard him say it once.”

Tommy laughed a little, too. “Can’t be that bad if he’s a bitch.”

The yelling was loud enough that he heard it through the walls. Tommy would have watched through a window, if there was one, if his best friend didn't have such a paranoid father. As it were, he instead peered through the peephole in the door to see the crowds had gathered on the back porch. Some of them had knives. 

He took a step back. “Maybe we should go deeper in the house.”

Tubbo nodded, and they went towards his room. Crumb was silent, shaking. Tommy wished he knew how to comfort her - he wasn’t that good with kids. Not that Crumb was a kid, well, she was about as much of a kid as he was. 

“Dad will be back soon,” Tubbo mumbled as he locked the door to his room, and shoved his chair up against it for good measure. Tommy knew Tubbo very rarely called the Captain “dad”. 

“Yeah, of course he will,” Tommy said, punching Tubbo’s shoulder. “It can’t be that bad.”

The yelling was increasing in volume, more people joining in. L’manburg was a young country, and most of the population lived in the city or one of the few nearby towns. But it sounded like every last citizen was outside, screaming variations of _traitor, rebel, Dream, hero, Dream, yes, Dream, Dream, Dream-_

Crumb pressed her paws over her ears. “This isn’t fun,” she mumbled. “Why is everyone mad?”

“Dad will tell us!” Tubbo said while rummaging through his drawers. Tommy watched him pull out a ratty stuffed bee, holding it to his chest. “When he gets back.”

Tommy started pacing around the room, tapping and twitching his fingers. The yelling wasn’t going away, and there were too many voices to tell what anyone was saying through the walls. He sat down next to Tubbo. Tubbo offered him the bee. Tommy huffed, and he wanted to reject it, (big strong men don't need stuffed animals,) but he took the bee in a gentle grasp. 

“Has your dad ever… done this, before?” Tommy asked. 

“Done what?”

“Told you to go inside because of something like this.” 

Tubbo shook his head. “Well, nothing like this has never happened, I think. But no. He’s never had to break up a mob or something before.”

Tommy pulled his knees up to his chest. Crumb had curled into a little ball on Tubbo’s lap, eyes squeezed shut, paws on her ears. Tubbo’s hands were also covering her ears, trying to help. He leaned on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy cuddled the stupid bee closer to himself. 

The yelling stopped, after far too long. Tommy and Tubbo looked at each other, but didn’t move from their spot. Crumb had fallen asleep, too stressed to deal with being awake, so Tubbo had tucked her into bed and piled a blanket around her like a nest. Tommy was different. When stress got to him, he hit the fight and flight buttons simultaneously, which overloaded his system and activated _freeze_. He was full of unspent energy, but couldn’t bring himself to move. Nothing to do in Tubbo’s room anyways. 

It was a while alone and silent before there was a knock at the door. “Creeper?” Came a soft voice. 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, but Tommy saw his smile, and the way his eyes teared upon hearing his dad. “Aw, man.” Tubbo stood up and went to unlock the door, bee tucked under his arm. “We have to change that password.”

The Captain stood proud in the doorway, scooping up Tubbo in his arms with a tired smile, even though Tubbo was reaching his height. "It's a good password." 

Tubbo laughed and hugged him. “We made it when I was _seven_.” He pressed his face into the Captain’s shoulder. “We were worried.”

“I know. I know.” The Captain set him down, going over to wake Crumb from her nap with a gentle shake. “Hey, Crumb.”

Crumb’s ear twitched, and she woke up with a cat yawn. She jumped up when she saw the Captain. “Sparklez!” She cheered. She rubbed up against his hand, purring. 

Tommy watched the family reunion a bit awkwardly from the side of Tubbo’s room. He knew he was welcome any time, and that they all liked him, but he felt out of place in this situation. Like he was imposing. After a bit, he cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. What the fuck happened?”

“Swear jar,” The Captain said on autopilot, but he seemed distracted. “It’s… complicated.”

“Shouldn’t you be with the President?” Tubbo remembered. 

“The president is trying to take care of his own son right now,” The Captain said. “We’re going to meet him tomorrow.”

“We?” Tommy questioned. “Why the fu- er, _fudge_ would we go see the president?”

The Captain winced. “There is… unrest through the city right now. I don’t want to leave you kids on your own. Speaking of, Tommy, you’re staying here for the night. I’m not sending you home in the dark while this mess is going on.”

“It’s dark?” No wonder he felt exhaustion creeping in on the edges of his thoughts. 

The Captain nodded. “You’re staying. That’s not a request. It’s what’s safest for you right now.”

Tommy almost argued, about to say he didn’t need the Captain’s pity, but figured he would have asked to stay anyways. Walking alone at night after a mob had gathered in the city square did not sound like something he wanted to do. “Thank you, Captain Sparklez.”

“How many times have I told you you can call me Jordan?” The Captain smiled at him. “I have patrol duty. Kara is going to come over to watch you guys while I’m gone.”

Tubbo ran to hug his dad again before he walked away. “Stay safe,” Tubbo murmured. 

The Captain ruffled his hair. “My lady help me, I will. Be good for Kara.”

“We will!” Crumb and Tubbo said, ever dutiful. 

The Captain left at that, leaving the kids alone. Tommy had heard of Kara before, but he hadn’t ever met her. She entered later through the door, wearing a dark blue guard’s uniform with her hair in a brown and red braid. Tommy recognized her face, though - he’d seen her right by the Captain’s side the times he’d spotted guards on patrol. 

Tommy held out his hand, trying to make a good first impression. “Uh, hi. I’m Tommy. What’s your name?”

The woman gripped his hand with a small smile. “First Lieutenant Corvus. You can call me Kara.”

Tubbo and Crumb knew Kara well. Crumb adored her, and took to following her around as she double checked the house’s security. Tubbo got to work getting the spare pillows out of the closet for the top bunk where Tommy slept. 

“Do you know what happened?” Tommy demanded of Kara once Crumb was asleep, curled up in the cat bed at the foot of the Captain’s. “I want to know.”

Kara frowned. “You know who Dream is, right?”

“Yeah,” Tommy lied. In reality, he didn’t know much about politics, but he didn’t want the Lieutenant to think he was stupid. 

“He came in and he said he was starting a new country.”

Tubbo whistled. “That probably upset a lot of people.”

“No wonder so many people were yelling,” Tommy muttered. “Did anyone go with him?”

“A non zero amount of guards. A few dozen citizens.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. “Okay. Good night.”

Kara nodded to him. “Goodnight, kid.”

Tommy changed into the pajamas he'd forgotten from the last time he slept over, and climbed into the top bunk. “What do you think is going to happen?” He asked Tubbo. 

Tubbo was quiet for a long time. Once the Captain had left again, he’d demanded the bee plushie back from Tommy and hadn’t stopped cradling it. Tommy knew he only did that when he was truly upset. “I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I think it might mean war.”

“War? Tubbo, that’s ridiculous.” Tommy’s stomach churned as he said it. “The Empire didn’t go to war with L’manburg when they started a nation.”

“That’s different. Wilbur is Philza’s son.”

“But the Empire isn’t going to war with Dream?”

“If L’manburg goes to war, the Empire is going to back us up.” 

Tommy thought about it. “But what if-”

“Go to _sleep_ ,” Tubbo groaned. “I hear enough about politics every weekend at the dinner table, I don’t need you plaguing my dreams with it too.”

Tommy huffed. “Fine. Whatever.” 

Tommy stayed up staring at the ceiling, only relaxing once he heard Tubbo’s gentle snoring. Tubbo was going to be okay. Tommy still couldn’t bring himself to sleep for another few hours. 

-

There was a smell of bacon in the air when Tommy woke up, and he knew what that meant. He jumped down and shook Tubbo awake. “Come on!” Tommy said. “Your dad is making food!”

Tubbo swatted at his arm - or tried to, but he missed. “How can you always tell when there’s food?” He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m up, I’m up.”

Tommy dragged Tubbo to the kitchen, where the Captain was swirling eggs together in a pan. Crumb was sitting on the counter, munching on a length of raw bacon. 

“Morning, boys,” the Captain said without looking up. The enthusiastic stomping had alerted him to their presence. “Eat up, it’s going to be a long day at the President’s House.”

“I’m coming?” Tommy asked, but helped himself to some (cooked) bacon. 

“I can’t leave you alone, can I?” The Captain divided up the eggs onto two plates. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to force you to listen to boring politics. Bring some board games, toys, whatever you want.”

Tubbo held his bee plushie close to himself. “What if we want to know what’s happening?”

“I don’t want to hear about politics,” Crumb piped up through a mouthful of bacon. 

The Captain sighed and smiled. “If you want to listen in, you can listen in, but you have to stay _quiet_.” 

Tommy knew he deserved the pointed glare he received, so he didn’t try to argue against it, and scarfed down his eggs. 

With a sword at his side, Crumb safe on his shoulders, and a promise from the boys to stay close, the Captain opened the door and led them to the Presidential House. Tommy looked around for signs of what had happened yesterday. There were more guards out, looking around for trouble, and less people in the streets, avoiding trouble. Tommy stuck closer to Tubbo, and kept his fists raised. 

The president’s house was a lot smaller than Tommy imagined, and a lot less like a government building than he expected. It was a nice house, he supposed, but it didn’t look like a mansion or anything, and didn’t even have a gate. Tommy thought the house looked like shit, and he prayed he could keep that opinion to himself. He didn't want to get court martialed, or whatever happened to people who upset the president. 

The Captain knocked on the door, and a man in a yellow sweater opened it. He had curly brown hair and bright eyes with deep shadows underneath. Tommy had expected the president’s staff to at least be wearing a suit or a uniform, and to know what a hairbrush was. “Jordan!” The man said with a smile, stepping aside. “Come in, come in, ah, you brought your kids, good.”

The man ushered them inside, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “How have you been?” The man asked, almost interrogated, the Captain. “I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep.”

“I got a quick nap in,” the Captain said. “You should really get some rest, though. You look exhausted.”

“I will, I will,” the man huffed. “Maybe. Later.” 

The man looked at Tommy. “Ah, hello! Sorry for not asking, what’s your name?”

“Tommy,” he said, and remembering he was trying to be polite, he then held out his hand. “Who are you?”

Tommy heard Tubbo give a sharp inhale, and saw the Captain put his face in his hands in the corner of his vision. The man seemed confused as he looked down at Tommy. “I’m the president,” he said, slowly. “My face is on the money?” He added, like Tommy needed the extra context. 

Tommy felt his throat go dry. “Uh. Right. Sorry.”

“And your other kids?” The president asked, turning to the Captain. 

The Captain gave a small shake of his head. “Tommy isn’t my son,” he explained. “He’s Tubbo’s friend - you’ve met Tubbo. He was at my house when everything started getting forked, so I had him stay.”

“Ah, right. We can send a message to your parents,” the president said, turning to Tommy. “They must be worried.”

“I don’t have any,” Tommy mumbled. 

“Oh.” President Soot fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater. “And, uh, this must be your daughter, Crumb? I don’t believe I’ve met her before.”

Crumb flicked her ears. “Hello, Mr. President.”

The president smiled at her, but his expression was distant. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“Wilbur,” The Captain started, and they started to walk deeper into the house. “Did chasing after-”

“No,” the president sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s gone. _Bastard_.”

The Captain put a hand on his shoulder, and the president sighed. “I’m fine, Jordan. Come on, let’s sit down.”

Tommy expected to go to an office, but President Soot brought them to what looked more like a living room. There were several couches, and assorted chairs that didn’t look like they'd fit under a desk. Crumb leaped off of the Captain’s shoulders and curled up on top of a pillow, staring out at the rest of the room. The Captain reached into his bag and gave her a small light up board to play with. Tommy thought it looked boring, but it must have been enamoring to cats. 

President Soot and the Captain took up seats across from each other over a table with a plate of crackers. Tommy _really_ wanted to grab some crackers, but he didn’t want to look rude. Usually he didn’t give two shits about looking rude, but he didn’t want his bad behavior to reflect on the Captain. He liked the Captain. 

“Word has been sent to the Antarctic Empire,” the president said, leaning back with a sigh. “I know they’ll defend us if Dream acts on his promises.”

“What promises?” Tommy asked immediately. Both adults turned to him. Tommy shut his mouth, staring at the ground. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fair, it’s fair to ask. It’s good you want to know.” President Soot sighed. “Dream threatened war with anyone who stood in his way.”

“Oh,” Tommy didn't like how that sounded. “Are… are we in his way?”

The president huffed. “We will be if I have anything to say about it.” 

President Soot’s eyes were cold, and Tommy tried not to feel frightened by the idea. He failed, but that was because of the President's tone, anyone would get scared. Tommy shut his mouth and stared at his hands, content to listen. 

“That may not be the smartest decision,” the Captain said. “Our army is…” he made a vague gesture with his hands, trying to express what he meant before giving up with, “not very good.”

“Which is why I’ve sent word to the Empire.” President Soot straightened up. “Dream thinks he can come into my city, steal my people, my land, my s-” He cut himself off, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he continued. “He thinks I’ll let him? Bullshit. I’m not afraid of him.”

“The Empire would be nothing but an asset in a fight,” The Captain agreed. “Between the Emperor and their Captain of the Guard-”

“They’re a force to be reckoned with, for sure.” President Soot grinned at that, and Tommy tried not to associate the word _maniacal_ with that grin. “Dream thinks he can bully me because he knows he’s the stronger fighter? Bullshit. I know two fighters _just_ like him, and they’ll stand with me.”

The Captain nodded. “Understood.”

The president sighed. “My note may take longer than usual to get there. A storm’s been raging for a few days now, one last late winter storm before the spring it seems. When we get word back for an audience, Jordan, I want you with me.”

“Of course, Wilbur.”

“Bring your kids,” the president added. “You’ll want them to be safe, and there’s no safer place than under the protection of Technoblade.”

“Thank you.” The Captain paused. “I don’t know if you want to hear it right now, Wilbur, but I’m sorry about Fundy.”

The president looked away. “Thanks, Jordan.”

Tommy really, really, _really_ did not want to look like an idiot by asking who Fundy was. 

The president leaned back in his chair. “I must be boring you kids,” he said with a laugh. Tommy got annoyed at that - the president looked _barely_ older than him, _maybe_ twenty, and besides, Tommy wasn’t a kid. “Have some crackers, or something, please. You must be stressed.”

Tommy reached forward and grabbed a handful of crackers. He shoved them in his mouth, no longer trying to be polite. Tubbo from beside him shook his head and cradled his bee plushie. Crumb had ran off to explore nearby rooms almost immediately. The president’s smile faltered. 

“I promise I’m going to do my best to take care of L’manburg,” he said, careful. “The people come first, always. But there’s no need to be worried, not really. The Empire is always going to be on our side.”

“How do you know that?” Tommy demanded through his mouthful of crackers. He saw the Captain put his head in his hands again. 

The president smiled. “Because their Captain of the Guard is my father.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Tommy then realized he had swore in front of the president. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, President Soot, I mean, I’m sorry, I mean, I didn’t want to doubt, I mean-”

“Wilbur is fine,” the president reassured. “You can call me Wilbur. And you can swear. And I’m not hurt that you didn’t know who my dad was, considering you didn’t know who _I_ was.”

Tommy gave an awkward smile. “Uh, yeah. Poggers.”

He’d just said _poggers_ to the president of L’manburg. 

President Soot - Wilbur - smiled at him. It was the most honest smile he’d given the whole time. “I have work to do. Defenses to check. Plans to make.”

“Wilbur, you need to sleep,” the Captain said. 

“I’ll sleep when I'm done,” he insisted. “Go home, go be with your family, I’m going to need you for something later.”

The Captain looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. “Alright. See you around, Wilbur.”

“I’ll send word when I need you. You’re dismissed.” 

The Captain went to recover Crumb from her exploration. Wilbur turned to Tommy and Tubbo. “Are you doing alright?” He asked, far softer than Tommy could comprehend. 

“I haven’t ever seen the Captain this stressed out,” Tubbo said, quiet. “And I’ve never had to go to a meeting because it wasn’t safe to be alone.”

Wilbur winced. “I’m sorry. Unprecedented times. I’m going to make sure this country is safe, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Tubbo said. 

“You better,” Tommy muttered.

Wilbur laughed. “Tommy, right? Thanks. You’re right. I better.”

The Captain came back with Crumb in his hands, one hand wrapped around her stomach for support, a knife in her mouth. “I can’t get her to put it down,” he explained to Wilbur, apologetic and nervous, his hand on Crumb's ruff to keep her head still. 

“Nuttin’ personal, kid!” Crumb said through the knife handle. She looked thrilled at her discovery. 

“She can keep it,” Wilbur said, waving a hand. “I have too many anyways.”

“Where did she get a knife?” Tubbo asked, standing up. 

“I don’t know,” The Captain said. “I do not know.”

-

Tommy had never spent the night twice in a row before, but the Captain had refused to let him go back to the orphanage. The Captain had even refused to escort Tommy back, insisting it was safer to stay with him in his house. Tommy knew it was safer, but he still felt awkward. 

Dinner was a more extreme affair than normal, too. Usually, the Captain cooked for himself and Crumb, while Tubbo and Tommy ate sugary cereal as they stayed up far too long. It was usually only one day, after all, so “real” food wasn’t too much of a concern. Tommy wasn’t used to the Captain’s cooking. It was nice. 

The Captain did his best to make the situation feel lighter. He had everyone play a card game together, and Tommy actually found himself having fun. It was hard to worry about what was happening when he was laughing with Tubbo and his dad. 

They had to sleep at some point, though. Tommy stared at the ceiling and listened to Tubbo snore into his stuffed bee. The world had changed. It hadn’t affected him directly, not really, not yet, but it had changed. 

He would be the first to admit he didn’t know much about politics, but he got the sense that he was going to have to learn. Quickly.


	2. will end in fire

A week went by of daily meetings with President Soot. After the first couple days, Wilbur had the Captain stay home, making the journey himself. No one thought to tell Tommy this, leading to him stumbling into breakfast in only pajamas. Twice. At least Wilbur seemed to find the interruption of his war plans funny.

Well, they  _ weren’t _ war plans. Both adults ensured the kids it wasn’t war plans. Tommy thought they were both lying bastards, but he couldn’t blame them for their false optimism. 

Tommy knew all about the need for it. This whole mess was taking a toll on Wilbur, even he could see it. So Tommy made it his mission to make the President smile at least once every time he visited. He wasn’t exactly sure why. He didn’t really know Wilbur. 

Wilbur laughed at one of his jokes once, smiling brighter than Tommy had seen him do since they met. Tommy changed his goal from one smile per visit to one laugh. 

The end of the week brought Wilbur back to the Captain’s house, letter in hand. “Word from the Empire,” he breathed in a rush. “Get ready, we’re leaving by noon.”

“I- alright.” The Captain turned off the stove that he’d been using to fry up sausages. “Tubbo, do you have spare warm clothes for Tommy?”

“They won’t fit him,” Tubbo said. “He’s too fucking tall.”

“Hey,” the Captain warned, pointing at the counter to the half full 'swear jar’ with his spatula. “It's fine, I’m sure we have something-”

“I’m coming?” Tommy asked, looking up from his toast. 

“Of course you’re coming!” the Captain said. “You think I’d just leave you here alone?”

Tommy opened his mouth, ready to say that since nothing had happened, that the town had quieted down, he was no longer in any true danger, really. That he was overstaying his welcome, intruding on their conversations and their resources. That it would be better if the Captain didn’t have to worry about him, since there were much bigger things demanding his worry. 

“I can bring extra winter clothes,” Wilbur said, waving a hand and halting Tommy's thoughts, like it was no problem at all. “They’ll be a bit big, but they’ll work.”

“Thanks,” Tommy choked out his gratitude instead of something self-deprecating. 

“I’ll be back with a coat and a carriage in a bit,” Wilbur said, already turning to leave. “If we make good time, we can be there by this afternoon. Phil's got us rooms and such, set up for a few days. Schlatt is in charge while I’m gone, Kara is already prepared to take over your duties.”

“Understood.”

Wilbur seemed to finally notice the spatula in the Captain’s hands. “Ah, sorry, I'll let you finish breakfast. Just wanted to tell you the second I got word.”

The Captain rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Wilbur. You’re welcome to stay and eat.”

“Sorry, Jordan, too much work to do.”

“Then I'll be telling your father you aren’t sleeping or eating,” the Captain threatened, gesturing with his spatula. Tommy had never seen a kitchen utensil look that dangerous before. 

Wilbur narrowed his eyes at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I think I would.”

Wilbur huffed. “One sausage. Then I have to go.” 

The Captain grinned and turned the stove back on. 

-

Tommy tried to contain his excitement, but it was hard. It was  _ really _ hard. Wilbur had gotten him a winter coat-

(“What color do you want?” Wilbur had asked. 

“Uh, whatever?” Tommy hadn't expected a choice. “Whatever you have spare.”

“Tommy, I grew up there. I visit all the time. I have a  _ lot _ of winter coats. What color do you want?”

“...Red.”)

-and now he was in a carriage, going to the Antarctic Empire. The Antarctic Empire. The oldest nation on the continent, the fiercest army in the world, the most famous inhospitable conditions to host a thriving empire. Home to the scariest motherfucker Tommy had ever heard of - The Blade of the North, The Blood God himself, the unkillable and undying, His Imperial Majesty Technoblade. 

Tubbo had told him about Technoblade once, at a sleep over. He'd gotten too big of a head about how brave he was, and Tubbo took him down a peg, telling him about someone who was stronger and braver than Tommy would ever be. 

Technoblade had never lost a battle. Technoblade had defeated entire armies by himself. Technoblade left a trail of red on the snow from the lives he’d taken. Technoblade had no scars because no one could match him. Technoblade was more than a man, half piglin from the Nether. Technoblade didn’t bleed. 

Tommy didn’t believe a word of it. 

He didn’t!

Wilbur had fallen asleep on the carriage ride up. Tommy knew the man needed sleep, but he couldn’t understand how. He couldn't stop fidgeting, the excitement keeping him from being still. But Wilbur had been here before, so maybe it did make sense. 

Crumb had her head stuck out the window, the Captain holding her in place with mild panic. The snow enamored her, and she caught several drifting snowflakes on her tongue. 

Just before the Captain could force her back inside, she gasped. “Look!”

Tubbo scrambled over to her window immediately, leaning over his dad. Tommy leaned to the other window, not wanting to crowd the Captain. He gasped as well. 

The arctic had been a mind-numbing bore for the majority of the ride. There had been one town they’d driven through on the way, but it was close to L’manburg’s borders and very tiny. Besides that, it had just been snow, snow, and more snow. 

The snow was dazzling now, shining white and almost blinding Tommy as he stuck his head out from the tinted window. He squinted and almost mistook the gleaming white castle for one of the mountains framing it. But the blue flag at the top of the tallest spire indicated it was, in fact, a castle. 

“We’re almost there?” Tommy asked, the nervous excitement growing. 

The Captain glanced out the window and gave a small laugh. “That means we’re about twenty minutes away.”

“Twenty min- are you fucking kidding?”

“Swear jar.” The Captain rubbed his face. “It’s a big castle. You can see it from a while away.”

Wilbur stirred, rubbing at his eyes. “I heard yelling. Are we there?” 

“Twenty minute mark. Kids got excited.”

Wilbur smiled a bit and sat up, stretching with a slight pop. “Can't blame them. It  _ is _ a gorgeous castle. Whoever built it had an exquisite eye for beauty.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Tommy mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

“A twenty minute nap isn’t going to do me much good.” Wilbur adjusted his beanie and his glasses. “The castle looks better up close. Five minutes from is the best view.”

Fifteen minutes later, and Tommy had to admit Wilbur was right. Tommy could see the blue and grey detailing on its walls, dark wood gleaming in contrast, the windows frosted with ice. “Not as cool as L’manburg,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

Wilbur laughed at that. “Don’t say that around Techno and Phil. This place is their pride and joy.”

The carriage pulled up to the front of the castle. There were ice sculptures decorating the front, and a few small spiky evergreens. Tommy thought it was pretty, but he still preferred the warm growth of L’manburg. 

The doors to the castle were open, and a short man was standing waiting for them, beaming. Wilbur leaped out of the carriage with more energy than Tommy had thought he could have. The man embraced him with a laugh, shimmering green wings extending from beneath his thick blue cape. 

“Hey, mate,” the man said, voice like sunshine, reaching up to ruffle Wilbur’s hair. “Been a bit. How’s your mother?”

“Kristen? Aw, she’s great. Still visiting Beam and Vik in Boomerville, same as the past few years. I got a letter from her a few weeks ago passing along her love.”

The man beamed at that. “Good.”

Wilbur turned to his entourage, beaming. “Kids, this is my father, Captain Philza Minecraft.”

Tommy was deeply confused. Philza, while obviously old, still didn’t look old enough to have a kid Wilbur’s age. And his wife had been on a visit for  _ years? _ And Wilbur called them both by name? And neither of them thought that was weird? What the fuck was this family. Philza had  _ wings _ .

“Welcome to the headquarters of the Antarctic Empire.” Philza gestured the group inside. “Come on in. Someone will take care of your horses.” Philza snapped a finger, and a guard peeled off from their position at the door to lead the horses away. 

Tommy was pretty sure Philza should have been older. He could have sworn he heard somewhere that Philza was already Captain of the Guard when Wilbur was an adult and created L’manburg. He still looked  _ old _ , but Tommy had expected... white hair, and wrinkles, or even a long, shitty beard. Philza looked normal old, not old people old. Maybe baby face ran in the family. 

Philza led them inside, and Tommy could overhear him reprimanding Wilbur for the sleeplessness in his eyes and the way he could  _ tell _ Wilbur hadn’t been eating that much. Tommy tried not to snort in amusement when he saw the Captain’s triumphant look as Philza told his son he needed to eat.

Well, he  _ tried _ . He snorted, and failed to cover it with a cough. Tubbo laughed a little at his laugh, and then they were laughing at each other. Then Tommy sort of remembered that he was a guest of the most powerful people in the world, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry.”

Philza gave Wilbur a pointed look. “If you just ate your vegetables, you wouldn’t get laughed at by children.”

“Hey!” Wilbur protested. 

“Hey!” Tommy protested. “I’m not a child! I’m a man! A big strong man!”

Philza smiled at him in a way that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Of course you are, kid.” 

Tommy huffed and crossed his arms. He was willing to drop it. For now. 

Philza waved to someone he saw as they walked through the labyrinth of hallways. “Ey! Ranboo! No, wait, don’t bolt, come on-”

Tommy looked over to see a tall boy with color split down the middle, white and black hair and skin with glowing green and red eyes. He gave an awkward wave. Tommy saw the glint of a silver crown, hidden by his messy hair. “Hi, Phil,” he said, also awkward. “Oh, we have company.”

“Do you want to come along?” Philza asked. “I thought you might like to hang out with Captain Sparklez’s kids, they’re about your age.”

“I’m not the Captain’s kid,” Tommy said, not sure why he’d always been so insistent on people knowing that. 

Philza didn’t seem to listen to Tommy, continuing to face Ranboo. Ranboo shuffled his feet. “Well, doesn’t- I’m supposed to be in the meetings, right? Techno likes it when I’m there.”

“Techno will understand if you'd rather go be a normal kid,” Phil said. “We can catch you up later.” 

Ranboo nodded, hesitant. “Okay.” 

Ranboo stayed next to Philza as he led the L’manburgians through the castle. Tommy tried to hop closer and talk to him. “Hey.” He said.

“H-hey,” Ranboo said, turning to look down at him. He was  _ really _ tall. 

“How old are you?”

“I- don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I have memory problems.” Ranboo shuffled his feet. “I forget details like that a lot.”

“You should try writing it down,” Tommy said, trying to be helpful. 

“I do? I have my age, or at least what we assume it is, written down. I just. Forgot it.”

Oh. Well now he looked like a jerk. Tommy stopped walking next to Ranboo and fell back in line with Tubbo. 

Philza finally brought them to a plain - at least, plain compared to the rest of the castle - door. There were others near it much fancier. But he opened it with a grin, calling out, “Ey, Techno, they’re here!”

Wilbur and the Captain walked forward immediately. Crumb and Tubbo hurried to keep pace with their dad, but Tommy hung back a ways, concerned. Philza nodded to him, as if signalling for him to go forward. 

The plain dark oak door had led to a grand entry hall, a red carpet leading towards a golden throne. And Tommy knew who was on that golden throne. There wasn't a single doubt. 

Technoblade was lounging on his throne like he didn’t have a care in the world. He set the book he’d been reading down on the armrest of his throne, next to a  _ polar bear _ that was lying down and staring at the party. A small white fox that had been pawing for attention paused, also staring, but much less scary. Gaze snapping back up, Tommy realized that Technoblade did have scars - he was covered in them. They were visible on his face, his forearms, the top of his chest, and even the bottom of his hooves (because he had  _ hooves _ ) had faded burn scars. He stood up, approaching the L’manburgians, and he was  _ tall _ . He towered over everyone in the room, except for Ranboo, but Ranboo didn’t count because he didn’t have Technoblade’s sheer  _ presence _ . 

Tommy felt the sudden irrational urge to bow. 

“Wilbur!” Technoblade’s grin was a terrifying thing, sharp fangs and gleaming tusks on display. He walked forwards, cape billowing behind him. Tommy felt immediately frightened for Wilbur for a second, as Technoblade approached him. Wilbur didn’t seem worried at all, and embraced him in a tight hug. 

“Techno!” Wilbur smiled, a genuine one, as if this wasn't terrifying. “It’s been a while, it’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Wilbur.” Technoblade backed away, leaving a hand on his shoulder, and surveyed the party. “Who are these children?” He asked, and Tommy tried to ignore how Technoblade was staring straight at him. 

“Crumb and Tubbo are my Captain’s children.” Wilbur pointed to each of them in turn. “And this is Tommy. I’m kind of taking him under my wing.”

Tommy blinked and tried not to stare at Wilbur. Since when had Wilbur been  _ taking him under his wing? _

_ Whatever you say, Tommy, do not say something stupid. _ “Why the fuck do you have a polar bear?”  _ Fuck. _

Technoblade tilted his head at him, his jewelry clinking with the motion. Tommy was acutely aware of the pointed claws on the end of each of his fingers. “That’s Steve. He’s my emotional support polar bear.”

“Ah, yeah, of course. Just a, just a giant fuck off bear.”

“You understand.” Technoblade turned away from Tommy, facing Wilbur and the Captain. He glanced to make sure the doors to the throne room were closed before continuing. “You must be confused about Dream.”

“Care to enlighten us as to why he showed up in my city, started a riot  _ and _ his own country, and promptly fucked off?” Wilbur asked, arms crossed. Philza took up a protective position beside him, one wing draping to brush against his shoulders. 

“Dream showed up without warning. He picked a fight. We threw him out. He must have immediately gone over to pick a fight with you,” Philza said, cold as ice. 

Technoblade just sighed. “More or less.”

Wilbur nodded. “Of course he did. Bastard.”

“In any case, you know that we’ll stand behind you in case of war,” Technoblade said. He glanced at where Crumb was sitting on the Captain’s shoulders. “Ranboo, maybe you could show the kids here around the castle?”

“Wait, but I want to stay-” Tommy started. He wanted to hear more about this Dream, what the fight was about, hear the plans for battle-

“But I don’t want you here.” The glint in Technoblade’s eyes said his decision was final.

Tommy huffed and crossed his arms, but he followed Ranboo without complaint as the taller boy gestured for them to follow him out. Tommy gave one glance back before the door closed.

“Well,” Ranboo hesitated, fiddling with the sleeves of his blue uniform. Tommy wondered what his job was. He didn’t look or act like a servant. His suit was rumbled and in disarray, his cape hung crooked, but he was  _ wearing a crown. _ “What do you guys want to do?”

“Tell me about Dream,” Tommy insisted. 

Ranboo looked panicked. “Wouldn’t you rather have some bread?”

“I want to know what the fuck is up with that guy.”

“Let’s go get some bread.” Ranboo started walking away. 

Tommy looked to Tubbo. “Is it worth leaving him and getting in trouble?”

“No,” Tubbo said. “It’s really not.”

Tommy groaned. “I thought this place was going to be  _ cool. _ ”

“I think it’s very cold,” Crumb said, nodding her head. Tubbo laughed at her joke. Tommy did not. 

Ranboo led them down a complex series of stairways. “Why is this goddamn castle like a fucking maze?” Tommy asked, more intrigued than annoyed. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t build it.” Ranboo shrugged. “I just live here.”

“It’s so cool,” Tubbo said, looking around. “But it’s so empty.”

“Yeah, Phil and Techno are having the place redecorated. Everything old got taken down.”

“What used to be up?”

“Just some tapestries and stuff, lots of emblems. I don’t remember exactly, or why they wanted to take them down. Guess they just felt like redecorating.” Ranboo opened a wood door, looking inside. “Niki? You here?”

“Ranboo!” A woman with pink hair looked up from a mixing bowl, beaming as she saw the gathered teens, hands coated in flour. “Oh, guests? Are these the L’manburgians? Come in, come in!”

“Hi!” Tubbo returned her smile. “I’m Tubbo, this is my sister Crumb and my friend Tommy.”

“Hi! I’m Niki!” She smiled. “Ranboo, sorry if you came here for bread, all the dough I have is still rising.”

“That’s okay! When’s the soonest it’ll be done?”

“Oh, about an hour, maybe?” 

“Then I’ll help you make the next batch, and we’ll just wait.” 

Tommy really wanted to argue, because he didn’t want bread, he wanted answers! But he figured if he complained about making bread with a very nice lady, he was actually going to get kicked out. 

Niki had everyone but Ranboo wash their hands (Ranboo grabbed a pair of special gloves, clearly his own). The faucet poured out near freezing water, and Tommy was sure the cold was on purpose. She managed to find something to function as gloves for Crumb as well, so she wouldn’t get fur in the bread. Crumb put them on, purring loud as she kneaded the loaf. Tubbo stood next to Niki as she coached him through making bread. He was a quick learner, it seemed, and Niki praised him for it. 

Tommy set up next to Ranboo, watching him as he folded the dough. “So,” he said, drawing out the 'O,' trying to seem nice and approachable. Ranboo looked terrified, so it seemed he was failing. “Do you know much about the castle?”

“Uh, a bit, yeah. I’ve lived here for about ten years?” 

“Wow,” Tommy said. “Ten years. Were your parents servants, or-”

“Phil found me in the woods and he just. Brought me home.” Ranboo shrugged. 

“Is it nice here? Do you like it?”

Ranboo was growing more and more relaxed, an easy grin playing on his face. “It’s fantastic. Everyone is really nice. Phil is a great man, and Techno is just… he’s Techno, it’s kind of hard to not like him.”

“So, you’re just kind of here? That’s pretty pogchamp,” Tommy said, glancing at his bread. “Uh, is it supposed to look like this?”

“You need more flour.” Ranboo spread more flour onto Tommy’s dough. “And yeah, I'm just kind of here. It’s a nice life.”

“Were you here when Dream came?” Tommy asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. 

Ranboo’s ears were long, tufted at the ends, and they pressed against his head when Tommy asked that question. “Well… okay, it’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” 

“Dream showed up randomly about, uh, two years ago? Just strode in like he owned the place, and no one kicked him out. And he didn’t come by frequently, just once every few weeks. I never met him. I just saw him talking to Techno sometimes.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. It’s weird. Then he showed up and he and Phil started yelling at each other. I don’t remember what about, I was, um, kind of panicking.” 

“That’s weird,” Tommy agreed. 

Ranboo shrugged. “That’s really all I know. And that Techno went out to look for him after he left.”

“What?” 

“Yeah. The blizzard had been rolling in for a while, but it started to get really bad about halfway through their big argument. Phil came to get me from my, um, panic room, and Techno was gone. The next day Techno came back, covered in snow. I asked what he had been doing. He just said looking for Dream, and then he went to his room.” 

“That’s so fucking weird,” Tommy said. “Why would he-”

“I don’t know why,” Ranboo interrupted. “He’s never mentioned it again. Every time someone mentions Dream now, he just gives them, like, a look. Like a  _ stop talking or I’ll behead you _ look.”

Tommy went back to focusing on his bread, thinking about it. “Maybe he just didn’t want a dangerous criminal loose in his country,” he said after a while. 

“Huh?” Ranboo looked up. 

“Technoblade. Dream. That’s why he went looking for him.”

“Maybe.” Ranboo shrugged. “You’d have to ask Techno, and if he wouldn’t tell me, he definitely won’t tell you. Now come on, I think you've kneaded your dough enough, put it in a bowl and let it rise.”

Tommy knew a conversation ender when he heard one. He sighed and put his dough in the bowl. 

-

Technoblade was the one who knocked on the door to the kitchen. “Ranboo- oh, bread.” He snagged a roll off the counter. “Thanks, Niki.”

“The kids helped,” Niki said, quick to grab the rest of the rolls out of Technoblade’s reach with a teasing smile. “But you’re welcome.”

“You were saying?” Ranboo prompted. 

Technoblade snapped his fingers. Tommy tried not to stare, reminded that he had claws. He had  _ fucking _ claws. “Yes! Ranboo, the L’manburgians are staying the night. Can you lead the kids up to the west tower, third floor? Rooms 7 and 9 for the children, 8 for the kitten.”

“Got it.” Ranboo snagged a bread roll from Niki’s plate and handed it to Techno on his way past. “Come on, guys.”

Ranboo pointed out two rooms. “One for Tommy and one for Tubbo. Crumb, this is room 8.”

Ranboo opened the door, and Crumb immediately ran in. “Sparklez!” 

The Captain was half in uniform still, his gleaming red coat folded in a neat square at the end of the bed. He looked to the orange and white blur running towards him and grinned, standing up. “Hey, Crumble.” The Captain scooped her up and cradled her. 

“Oh, I thought- Techno said-” Ranboo started stammering. 

“Technoblade knows,” the Captain said, setting Crumb down on his coat. “I told him Crumb stays with me.” Crumb nodded, kneading at the coat with the same practiced movements of kneading bread. Tommy wondered if that was why people said cats were making biscuits. 

“Where’s Wilbur?” Tommy asked. 

“Went off with Phil,” the Captain said, scratching the back of Crumb’s head. “I assume he’s going to sleep in his old room.”

“Alright.” Tommy nodded. “That makes sense.”

Tubbo snorted. “What, are you assigning yourself his personal guard? Why would you try to replace the Captain like that?”

“I just wanted to know!” Tommy sniped back. 

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Goodnight, Captain! Goodnight, Crumb!”

“Goodnight, Tubbo.” The Captain nodded to them. “Goodnight to you, too, Tommy.”

“Night,” Tommy said, turning and walking to his own room. He could hear Tubbo and Ranboo continuing to talk in the hallway, but the second his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

-

Tommy was grateful to be back in L’manburg, and started shedding his heavy winter layers the second they were in the familiar oak forests. “The cold sucks,” he said. “L’manburg is definitely better.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “It grows on you.”

“ _ Frostbite _ grows on you.”

“That’s true.”

Wilbur looked over the entourage in the carriage, and gave a soft sigh as they entered the city proper. “Jordan, you should tell them.”

The Captain winced. “I thought I’d have one more night.”

“You do.”

“One more night for what?” Tubbo seemed to break out of his daydream. “Captain?”

The Captain ruffled Tubbo’s hair. “I’m going on a mission in the morning.”

“Oh.” Tubbo slouched. “What for?”

“Afraid that’s a secret, Tubs.” 

“Where will we stay?” Crumb asked, eyes wide. “While you’re gone?”

Wilbur cleared his throat. “I’m extending the offer for you kids to stay in my house. Just while Jordan is gone.”

“Oh. Alright.” Tubbo picked at a fray in his shirt. “But you’ll be back?”

“Within the week,” the Captain promised. 

The carriage pulled up in front of the Captain’s house, pausing. 

“Alright.” Tubbo hugged him, tight. “But you’re going to stay tonight?”

“Yep.” The Captain ruffled his hair. “Tonight is for my kids.”

The Captain got out of the carriage with his children, Tubbo animated and already describing the cake that he should make for them, with Crumb sitting proud on top of his head. 

Tommy stared at his hands, not sure if he should follow or not. Wilbur poked his shoulder. “You can come over early, I actually have a room ready for you.”

“What? Really?”

“It… was someone else’s, but I haven’t been able to clean it out, yet. Dust it off and it’s yours.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Tommy didn’t quite know what else to do, and Wilbur seemed nice. “Thank you.”

Wilbur smiled at him. “No problem, kid.”

The carriage continued to Wilbur’s house, looping around the back. A man with horns nodded to him as Wilbur got out of the carriage. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing, Mr. President Sir of L’manburg.”

“Schlatt, how many times do-”

“-you have to tell me I can call you Wilbur instead of Mr. President Sir of L’manburg? You know every time you complain I add another honorific, Mr.  _ Gentleman _ President Sir of L’manburg.” The man gave a sharp grin. 

“You’re awful,” Wilbur huffed. “Tommy, this is my Vice President, Schlatt. Schlatt, this is Tommy.”

“You found an orphan or something? You gonna adopt him? Replacing your son so quickly?”

“I’m not replacing my son,” Wilbur said, a bit too fast, giving a tense smile. “I’ll get him back. Somehow.”

Schlatt nodded. “Well, I’m gonna go. I’ve got a busy day of drinking and drugs and women that this damn job kept me from.”

“You go do that, mhm?” Wilbur laughed. 

“Is he serious?” Tommy asked once he was sure Schlatt was out of earshot. 

“One hundred percent and not at all.” Wilbur opened the door to his house. “Come on.”

Wilbur led him to a room that was recently in use, but had gone untouched just long enough to gather a layer of dust. The bed wasn’t even made. “Uh, feel free to make yourself at home,” Wilbur said, looking at the floor. “Move anything you want, just don’t toss anything out.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Tommy looked around the room. Most of the furniture and decorations were orange, which was a shit color if you asked him. And there was fur absolutely  _ everywhere _ . “Do you have a fucking cat or something?” Tommy asked. 

Wilbur didn't answer, and Tommy turned to see he'd already left.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the warm reception ;-; it means so much to me and I'm glad you're all liking this fic :) I have a lot planned so just wait ;3   
> btw this is the last Tommy POV for a while- ITS TECHNO TIME BABYYY


	3. some say

Techno watched the L’manburgian carriage fade into a speck on the snow covered path. Phil was still standing in the courtyard, watching them go. Techno knew Phil had better vision than him, so he was content to let Phil watch for as long as they were in his sight. 

He went back to his throne room, rubbing the back of Steve’s ears. Steve gave a low mewl and flopped onto his belly. Techno thought he was smiling, even though he was a bear. Blitz got annoyed by the lack of attention and started yipping, rubbing against Techno’s arm. Techno rolled his eyes and started petting his needy fox. 

Blitz and Steve’s combined efforts had left Techno covered in white fur by the time Phil returned. Techno waved to him from his unfortunate position caught underneath a cuddly polar bear. Phil had the nerve to laugh at him. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Techno demanded, shoving Blitz’s tail out of his mouth. “I’m your Emperor!”

“Mhm,” Philza said, obviously not caring, not even trying to hide his grin. 

“Get- off of me you great lug-” Techno shoved at Steve until he gave a baleful moan and stepped to the side. 

“You know he only does that when he can tell you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.” Techno stood up and tried to brush the worst of the fur off of his shirt, but it just got all over his hands. He scowled. 

Phil laughed again. “It’s okay if you’re upset.”

“I’m not!” Techno threw his cloak onto his throne, huffing. “I’ll get someone to clean that, I’m not wearing it.”

Blitz immediately jumped into the center of the cloak and curled up into a little ball. Techno hated that fox sometimes. 

Phil put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, mate. You’re too stressed.”

“I’m not stressed!” Techno snapped. Most people would have flinched. Phil met his gaze evenly. 

“Politics stresses you out. Why you wanted to start an empire, I can’t understand.”

“You joined me, didn’t you?”

“Always.” Phil sighed, his wings quivering at the tips. “Wilbur hasn’t been sleeping.”

“How do you know?” 

“He’s my son, of course I know.” Phil paused before admitting, “and Captain Sparklez told me.”

Techno snorted. “Typical Wilbur.”

“Not typical circumstances.” Phil rubbed his arms, gazing out to the door. “I miss him.”

“He was just here.”

“He may not be for much longer.”

Techno tried not to sigh. Phil always did this when Wilbur visited- it was routine at this point. Wilbur would visit, and Phil would be ecstatic until Wilbur left, at which point he would start moaning to Techno about how he was running out of time with Wilbur. Techno would always tell him the same thing. He knew Phil just wanted to hear it over and over again to soothe his nerves. 

“You’ve had fifty years with him,” Techno said. “And he hasn’t visibly aged since he was twenty four.”

“I’ve seen the same thing happen to half immortals. It’s slow aging, but they all age and die eventually.”

“But he’s not half, Kristin is immortal.”

“And Kristin was made, not born.”

“And Kristin is saving her chance specifically for Wilbur.” Techno nudged Phil’s shoulder with his own. “You’re not going to lose your son.”

Phil sighed. “Thanks, Techno.”

Techno pat his shoulder. “I tell you this every time.”

“And I believe you every time.” Phil hummed. 

“If you believed me, you’d stop asking me.” Techno rolled his eyes without any malice. “Come on, sugar fiend, you’re being like this because you haven’t had enough sweets. Let’s go ask that baker Ranboo is friends with, Niki. I know she made bread with the kids earlier, and I haven’t been able to steal more than two rolls.” 

“Speaking of Ranboo,” Philza said quickly. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him what.” Techno did not look at him. 

He could imagine Phil’s shit eating grin well enough, though. “You know, the fact that he’s first in line to inherit the most powerful Empire in the world?”

“Shut up,” Techno hissed, glancing around. “Someone could hear you.”

“He should know, Techno,” Phil said, even as he lowered his voice. “Why haven’t you told him?”

“It hasn’t been the right time,” Techno said, waving his hand. 

“You’ve been saying that since we finalized all the paperwork. What if something happens, we have to skip the continent tomorrow, and he has to find out from some sealed envelope?”

“I’ll tell him later,” Techno said. 

“Define later.”

“Not today.” Techno scowled. “Now leave me alone, you’re no longer invited to get bread.”

Phil rolled his eyes, and continued to follow Techno anyways. Techno didn’t even try to stop him. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to. 

Techno glanced at the wall as they walked down. One of the new tapestries had been hung out, featuring two silhouettes meant to be him and Phil, standing in front of the white outline of the castle. He frowned. The castle looked empty with the redecoration. 

Techno looked away and continued walking. Bread. That was the primary agenda. The dull throb in the back of his head continued to chant for bread. 

Techno loved the bakery, mostly because it provided him with food. It was also one of the few rooms in the castle where he could relax. Everywhere else, he had to present himself as the Emperor. It was quickly getting  _ incredibly  _ boring. In the bakery, only Niki was around, and Niki was friends with Ranboo. Techno let himself slouch. 

Ranboo was inside the bakery, chatting away with Niki about possible deserts they could make together and arguing about the correct amount of chocolate. “You should add more cocoa,” Niki insisted. “Rich flavors, dark-”

“Bitter,” Ranboo interrupted casually. “Dark chocolate is bitter. Needs more sugar.”

“It does not need more sugar!”

“I think you should make both,” Techno said, announcing his entrance. He looked around, immediately spotting and grabbing a roll off the platter near the door. “These are for me, right?” He asked, already chewing. 

Niki laughed. “No, I made those for Wilbur, but he left before I could give them to him.”

Phil laughed back. “Sorry about that. Kept him longer than I thought I would. Lots to talk about.”

Techno shrugged. “Wilbur is gone. My bread now.”

“Can I have some bread, too?” Ranboo asked politely. 

_ This whole empire will belong to you one day. You can have bread. _ Techno thought, but didn’t say anything. He tossed Ranboo a roll. “No,” he deadpanned. 

“Dang.” Ranboo started to pick at his bread. “Techno, forgive me if I speak out of place-”

“When have I ever gotten onto you about speaking out of place?” 

“Never,” Ranboo admitted. “But you do get upset when I say something you don’t like. You look tired.”

Techno had been up most of the night, the cacophony of his head never silent, never satisfied, and his own thoughts full of worry. “I think I might finally tell you you’re speaking out of place.”

“Sorry.”

“Ranboo’s right,” Phil said. “Techno, you’re overworked.”

“Well, I am doing basically every job by myself,” he huffed. “No thanks to you, Captain. I’m planning wars, I’m running a country, I’m trying to keep the empire in line, I just had to deal with an ambassador party-”

“That would be one thing you can stop stressing about. You need a new ambassador.” Phil had a point. Techno hated it. 

“No, I don’t,” Techno snapped. “I don’t need to replace our ambassador, because that would imply we’re doing diplomacy with more than L’manburg, and diplomacy with L’manburg is  _ your _ job, because Wilbur is  _ your _ son.”

“Technoblade,” Philza said warningly. “Don’t stick your head in the snow and ignore the world.”

Techno sighed. “Looking for an ambassador would just be more work,” he tried to argue. “I don’t have time to find candidates, do a vetting process, ensure compatibility-”

“I’ll do it,” Phil said easily. “If it’ll make your life easier, I’ll do it.”

“I can do it,” Ranboo piped up. Techno and Phil turned to look at him, and he cleared his throat. “I, uh, I’ll do it? Phil, you’re busy too, and I don’t really do much. If there’s anything I can do to be helpful, I want to help.”

Phil looked to Techno, willing to let him make the call. Techno was still unsure, still uncertain, about command. It had always been Phil calling the shots and keeping them safe, for centuries. Technoblade could command armies,  _ had  _ commanded armies, but he was unsure of how to react to a teenager's earnest desire to help. 

“Sure,” Techno said. Ranboo was his chosen heir. He could pick out an ambassador, and if he couldn’t, Techno really needed to find a new heir. “Go ahead. If you find someone, send them to me for final approval.”

Ranboo nodded. “I’ll get started. I know a few people who might be okay.”

Techno nodded back to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Phil roll his eyes. Techno grabbed another two bread rolls. “I’m going to the library,” he announced, even though he didn’t have to. “Thank you again, Niki.”

Niki looked up from her baking. “Oh? Oh! Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Techno walked out the door, ignoring Ranboo’s confused expression and Phil’s even gaze. Phil was infuriatingly in tune with Techno’s emotions, the result of centuries together. 

Techno went to the library, striding past the shelves and shelves of books, pausing only to grab one weathered and rolled up scroll, ignoring any of the designated tables for research, and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace. The heat roared at his back as he rolled out his map. 

It was an old map, wearing thin at the edges, the scrawling handwritten notes in the margins fading. The map was older than L’manburg, and Techno had personally inked the border of Wilbur’s country. He started analyzing the map. The Empire was to the north, and L’manburg to the south- Techno had given L’manburg most everything south of the deciduous forests, and Wilbur had expressed disinterest in expanding too far past the plains to the south east. That left a large section of desert and some plains that Dream could claim for his own without interceding on borders, but Techno doubted anyone would be content without at least some forest. 

The borders between the Empire and L’manburg had always been fuzzy, and it hadn’t mattered at all. Maybe they should set up a more firm boundary at this point. 

Techno sighed, and tried to figure out how much of his Empire he was willing to give up- it wasn’t much, if he was honest. He was stubborn, and he didn’t want to give up any of his land. L’manburg had been different, because Phil had asked, and it was for Phil’s son. 

“Techno,” Phil called softly. Techno looked up at him, giving a nod in greeting. Phil sat across for him, gently touching the neat cursive notes Techno had left on the margins. “What’s this?”

“Deciding what version of the borders looks best.” Techno sighed. “I don’t like any of them.”

Phil reached out to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“It’s not your fault.” Techno shrugged. He rolled up the map. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You really should tell Ranboo he’s the heir,” Phil said. “You’re letting him choose an ambassador, he should know.”

“He didn’t ask why.” Techno stood up and put the map back where it came from. 

Phil followed him step for step. “When are you going to tell him? As you hand him a crown? Oh, wait, you  _ did  _ give him one, and you told him it wasn’t anything important.”

“It hasn’t been the right time,” Techno said. “I’m not going to argue with you about this tonight.”

Phil just sighed. “Techno, he deserves to know.”

“He’s a kid. I won’t tell him before he’s eighteen unless it’s an emergency, and that’s final.” 

“Fine.” Phil huffed. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you will.” Techno rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about politics. How was Wilbur as Wilbur, not Wilbur as president?”

Phil gave a soft grin. “His wings are growing in beautifully. Almost all the down is gone.”

“Any green yet?”

Phil laughed at that, fluttering his own wings. “If they end up green, it won’t be for another decade, I think, based on how they’ve been growing so far. No, still brown.”

Techno nodded. “Do you know how his flying skills have progressed?”

“Awfully,” Phil said simply. “He hasn’t figured out how to move them to do-”

Phil started to hover off the ground, green wings fluttering rapidly in a blur. “-hasn’t figured out how to keep himself afloat. He can break a fall, but he can’t really get up anywhere.”

“How long did it take you to learn to fly?” Techno asked. 

Phil shrugged. “Eh. A year or so after they finished growing. Wilbur isn’t me, though, and I had much less responsibility when I was learning to fly than Wilbur does now.”

Techno hummed in agreement. “Speaking of wings-”

“I’ll braid your hair if you preen my wings.” 

Techno sat by the fire and let Phil braid his hair, and Techno preened his wings. It was the ritual they’d had for hundreds of years, not long after Phil had found him in the snow, shortly after he learned Techno was immortal like him, and since Techno and Phil had decided they were a unit, unbreaking and inseparable through the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> immortal techno and phil my beloveds.


	4. in ice

The library was one of the few rooms that had more window than wall. It let in the light without needing as many torches - a major fire hazard for a library. It meant that when Techno was in the library, he could see the world outside with ease, the green and pink flowers kept to the side to make sure bird-brained men remembered there was glass. 

The sky had gotten dark, and white flecks of snow drifted across the window. It was likely normal wind. Techno doubted a storm had already kicked up again. 

Phil’s methodical braids were calming, a ritual they’d completed thousands of times. The warmth of the fireplace on his back lulled him into a relaxed, sleepy state. Techno closed his eyes and sighed. 

It was snowing. Techno and Phil had met in the snow, when they were both much younger, and both much lonelier.

Techno had forgotten many things. He’d forgotten the faces of men he’d slain, the faces of people he used to know, he’d forgotten so much and he’d forget more. He would never forget the way Philza looked at him, when he reached out his hand and pulled him from the snow. 

-

It was snowing. He huddled on a quickly cooling block of magma, trying to flick the embers into the broken portal. His movements were slow, fumbling, and numb. The magma burning at his feet was making him tremble, but he couldn’t stand to leave, or he’d end up frozen in the snow. 

He’d been through the Nether, through the overworld, and back again, but he’d never been in the cold. And the portal had shattered, leaving him stranded. 

His clothes were too light for this weather, meant for the sweltering heat of the Nether. He curled in on himself, trying to conserve his body heat. He closed his eyes. 

He heard something. He jumped up, snatching his sword from where he’d stuck it in the snow, ignoring how the freezing metal burned his hand. He looked around, blinking snow out of his eyes and trying to find what he’d heard. It had sounded like a call, or a grunt. 

He shivered, sinking back down to the magma. Nothing. It was nothing.

Another noise. Louder this time, and more distinguished. A call, definitely, in a language he didn’t quite know. 

He tried to stand up, and he slipped, his hoof splashing into the lava under the magma’s surface. He screamed and stumbled back, shoving his foot into the snow. His vision burst into white and red for a second, the dull ache in the back of his head screaming  _ pain, pain, ouch, oof, burn, burn, burn- _

His vision cleared, and a man was standing in front of him. He bared his teeth and shakily raised his sword.

The man was dressed in green, a color he knew but was not common in the Nether. He looked human - except for the talons where his feet should be, wrapped in cloth to keep some of the cold out, as well as shimmering green wings he'd never seen before, narrow and fluttering. He was extending forward a calloused, scarred hand. 

He narrowed his eyes and stepped backwards, foot still searing in pain. The man spoke in a garbled tongue, and he hissed at this bird creature.

The man paused, then tried again, this time in a language that was more of a gurgle than a growl. He tilted his head, still holding a defensive pose, but definitely curious. The man kept his hand outstretched. His wings blocked out some of the snow and wind blowing towards him. 

The man tried again, a language he didn’t recognize at all. He shook his head, and the man’s eyes lit up. He said something again in that garbled language of men, then paused, and hissed, “Wither?” 

He thought about how to answer, but eventually he hissed back, “a little.”

The man beamed and said a word in Wither that he didn’t understand. He shook his head, and the man muttered a word in Wither he  _ did _ know, but he doubted curse words would be helpful to a conversation. “Piglin?” He offered the man, semi hopeful. 

“Badly,” the man admitted. “I’m learning, but I don’t word things right. That’s the extent of my correct Piglin.”

He grunted, frustrated. The man took another step towards him, and he backed against the portal, shuddering. 

“Help,” the man said in Piglin. It was the wrong word for help, the word as a command instead of an offer, but he hoped it was an accident. 

“Help,” he agreed, slowly. 

The man was taller than him, and he pulled him close to his chest. He was warm, especially compared to the chill of the snow. He closed his eyes and hoped for the best. Either he was going to die to the weather, or die to a murderer he trusted, and there was more honor in dying to a sword than a blizzard. 

The man leaped into the air, wings buffeting snow around, holding him close. He closed his eyes, falling limp, and accepted the flight. Either he would live, or he would die, and he’d made his choice by not running his sword through this strange bird man. 

He shivered, and exhaustion and pain finally caught up to him. His sword clutched tight in his hands, he found himself slipping into darkness. 

When he woke up, he was under a soft blanket, much softer than the coarse strider-string ones of the Nether. He rubbed at his head, looking around. His sword was leaning on the wall next to him, which put him at ease. He sat up, the dull pounding in his head coming to the forefront.  _ Danger, safe, safe, danger, no danger, safe, safe, where? _

He pushed the blanket off of himself. His foot was wrapped in clean cloth, and he hesitantly peaked underneath. It had scarred, badly, and the tips of his hooves had chipped. But his foot was intact, and the scars would fade. He tried to stand on it, moving around carefully. Seemed functional enough. 

He looked around. He was in a small room made of brown overworld wood, a table of sorts at one end and a pile of blankets on a frame in the corner. He looked outside. There was snow, but also people, walking around in an organized fashion, other brown buildings in the background. 

He wasn't dead. That was a good sign. 

There was a knock on the door. He startled, but didn’t reach for his sword yet, only put himself in arm’s reach of it. 

The winged man walked in, holding a book in his hand. “Hello,” he said, in faltering Piglin. His accent was atrocious, and he seemed to struggle to pronounce the syllables. He snorted. Piglin was a notoriously difficult language for humans to speak. 

“Hello,” he replied. “Thank you,” he added after a pause.

“You’re welcome.” The man held up his book. “Translation. Read it last night.”

The man had used the wrong tense of read. He still nodded. 

“Name?” The man asked. “I am  _ Phil _ .”

“ _ Phil _ ,” he said, trying out the name. He looked at Phil, and knew the human wasn’t going to be able to pronounce his name. He tried anyways, a low growl that pitched up in the middle. 

“Techno?” Phil asked. It was wrong. In Piglin, names were pronounced in a very specific way, and he was sure it was going to be impossible for his voice to replicate it. The man - Phil - didn’t have the physical structure to do it right. He wasn’t hurt. 

“Techno,” he agreed, pronouncing it the way Phil did. He didn’t mind saying it wrong, mostly because he knew he hadn’t been all piglin in the first place. Snout too short, tusks too small, ears in the wrong spot, hair growth like a human.

Phil flipped through his book, eyebrows knitted together. “Techno means  _ blade _ .” He pointed at the sword leaning against the wall. “ _ Sword. Blade _ .”

He laughed a little at that. “I like that. Technoblade. I’m Technoblade.”

Phil’s wings fluttered as he grinned. “Hello, Technoblade.”

“Where?” Technoblade asked. 

“Safe,” Phil said. He flipped through the book. “Bastion?”

There must not have been a better word. Technoblade nodded, and accepted it. Phil pointed at his foot. “Heal?”

“Yes,” Technoblade agreed. He was getting frustrated by this conversation more and more by the minute. He muttered a small curse. 

Phil’s wings flared at the sound. “You speak Ender?” He asked quickly, in the lilting tones of the night. 

Technoblade’s eyes went wide. “Yes! Yes, I do! Thank the gods, this conversation is about to be a lot easier.”

Phil was grinning like a madman. “What were you doing out there?”

“I like to explore the Overworld. A- a weird green thing blew up my portal back.”

“I thought piglins couldn’t travel to the Overworld, they’d die.”

“They do. I’m only half, I think.”

“You think?”

“I don’t have any parents. They were killed by orphans, I was told. I was very young, I don’t remember.” Technoblade leaned forward, trying to hold back his excitement. “Why did you help me?”

“I saw you, and I thought you were going to die, and I wanted to help.” Phil shrugged. “No other reason.”

“Thank you.” Technoblade rubbed his arms. “I should probably go. Do you know where the nearest portal is?”

“I don’t,” Phil admitted. “But the snow storm is about to hit this city. It might be safer to stay here for a while, then I can help you light the portal you came through.”

Technoblade huffed. “Okay,” he said. He paused. “Will you teach me the language of humans?”

“Which one? There’s a lot of them.”

“The one you speak, short legged dipshit.” Technoblade loved enderman curses. 

Phil just laughed. “That one’s called English. I can try to teach you, sure.”

“Thank you.” Technoblade nodded to him. “You are a strange man, Phil.”

Phil grinned, and his talons clicked on the floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Technoblade rolled his eyes. The dull ache in the back of his head yelled incoherently, but the only word he caught was friend.

The storm came. Technoblade stayed with Phil, and Techno learned English while trying to teach Piglin. Their conversations became language practice, correcting each other in Ender, or switching completely when they were both fed up with miscommunications. Phil told Technoblade about the places in the Overworld he hadn’t seen, and Technoblade told Phil about the places in the Nether he never would. 

The language and cultural barrier made for an interesting conversation, where each of them had to use three languages to make a point. Technoblade loved it. Other piglins hated talking to him, and endermen were dreadfully boring conversationalists. Phil was new and exciting. 

“Flowers,” Phil said. There wasn’t a Piglin word for flowers, and Technoblade had only heard the Ender word used for mushrooms. “They’re colorful plants. They smell good and look nice.”

“I want to see one,” Technoblade insisted.

“There aren’t any here. Too… not hot.” Phil switched to Ender. “Piglin doesn’t have a word for cold, does it?”

“Not needed.” Technoblade shrugged. “What do flowers do? Do they do anything?”

“They’re plants.”

“Can you eat them?”

“Some of them?” Phil paused, and said again in Ender, “I don’t have words for this creature in either language. Do you know about fuzzy, yellow striped bugs?”

Technoblade shook his head. “No.”

“They use flowers to make food, and then they make too much, and people can eat it, too. It tastes good.”

Technoblade nodded. “I’d like to see that.”

“I can show you,” Phil offered. “If you want.”

“I do.” 

When the storm finally subsided, Technoblade did not go back to the Nether. Phil took him to see  _ bees _ . 

-

“Techno,” Phil said quietly. “Your hair is done.”

Techno gave a low hum, running his hand along the complex braid, slinging it over one shoulder where the jewels dangled over his abdomen. “Thank you, Phil.”

Techno stood up, stretching his stiff legs, and Phil shuffled forward, shucking off his cape. The back of his shirt was hardly a back at all, leaving more than enough room for his hummingbird wings to stretch out from his shoulder blades. 

Techno ran his hand along the feathers, carefully pulling out all the ones that had come loose or had broken. It was methodical, calming work. He used to be awful at it. Now he was one of the only people that Phil trusted to touch his wings. 

-

Technoblade stayed with Phil for years before he realized Phil didn’t age. Techno had grown - several feet taller than Phil, which he gloated about every time it came up, and then more when it didn’t. He’d grown from a young teen into a young adult. Phil looked like the exact same thirty-something Techno had always known. 

Techno never asked him about it. He had more important things to worry about. 

They explored the world together, finding mountain after valley after desert after ocean. Techno learned English, and Phil became…  _ decent _ at Piglin. Technoblade once offered to teach Phil how to fight, and Phil had fallen over laughing. It was a while before he choked out an explanation that his title  _ Angel of Death _ existed for a reason. Techno had also found it funny. 

They sparred together anyways. Phil taught Techno overworld techniques, and then Techno defeated him using the fighting style he learned in the Nether, and then Phil learned his patterns and kicked his ass. Techno refused to stay down, and they sparred until they were evenly matched. On land, Techno could defeat Phil easily. If Phil was flying, victory was out of the question. It balanced out in the end. 

Technoblade didn’t notice anything abnormal about himself (apart from the obvious) until Phil brought it up. 

They’d been exploring a mountain, trying to find a fabled secret tunnel, and Techno had slipped. It hadn’t been a bad slip. 

It had been a horrible, bone shattering fall. 

Techno’s hooves weren’t built for climbing mountains, and he’d slipped on a rock. Of all things, a rock. He’d stumbled, and leaned the wrong way to grab onto Phil for stability. Then he tumbled down the mountain, screaming and howling as he crashed against the ground.

“Techno!” Phil yelled, wings immediately flaring out as he dove down to where Techno was gasping on the ground. 

“Phil,” Techno grit his teeth. “ _ Fuck _ .”

His legs were a mess, and Techno knew without looking that he’d broken  _ something _ down there, probably many somethings. Phil grabbed Techno and pulled him against his chest, and Techno clutched at his coat, wheezing. 

“Come on,” Phil said, panicked. “Come on.”

Techno had grown since they’d met, and Phil could no longer carry him  _ easily _ , but he still did. He carried Techno back to the small town by the mountain, and found a local doctor to splint his legs. 

Technoblade had one night of intense pain, screaming and crying, and feeling like his legs were on fire. Then he was walking to the little diner for breakfast by the morning. 

Phil didn’t look as shocked as Techno expected him to. Surprised, yes, but not the faces of the locals, who had seen Techno’s legs shattered and bloody and were now staring in absolute disbelief as Techno jogged around town. 

“You’re like me,” was the first thing Phil said when they were alone. 

“Like what?”

Phil’s wings quivered, and his eyes betrayed his excitement. “Immortal.”

“Immortal.” Techno tried out the word. “As in I can’t die.”

“All your injuries heal overnight or sooner, no matter how dire. At some point, probably soon, you’ll stop physically aging. You will never die, and you can’t be killed.” 

“Like you. You’re immortal.”

Phil finally grinned, pure, ecstatic joy on his face. “I am. And so are you. I thought I was the only one. I thought I would never find another person like me.”

Technoblade stared at his legs, unbroken, whole, and perfectly functional. “Immortality,” he said again. The weight of it crashed down on him.

“It- it takes some time to get used to,” Phil confessed. “The idea that you’ll never die.”

Techno gave his friend a grin. “Haven’t you heard? Technoblade never dies.”

Phil laughed at that. “Do you want to go back up and try to find that tunnel again?”

“As long as you promise to not let me fall again.”

“Deal.”

The secret tunnel was gorgeous, decorated with art and glowing jewels, but it did seem slightly less special when compared to the idea of living for eternity. 

Phil and Techno had meant to part ways years ago. With every passing day, Techno had felt that split was less and less likely. With the newfound realization of immortality, Techno felt that Phil was going to be by his side for many, many more years to come.

-

“Done,” Techno hummed, flicking off the last of the dirt. “Clean as the day we met.”

Phil snorted. “They weren’t very clean that day, you know. Snow is awful for my feathers.”

“And yet here we are.” 

Phil stood up, rolling his shoulders and flapping his wings a few times. “It’s getting late. I’m going to go to sleep. Don’t stay up too late, Techno.”

“I’ll try.” Techno nodded to Phil as he left. 

-

A millenia. 

Techno and Phil had been by each other’s side for a millenia. Techno was not as old as Phil, but he was not young by any measure. Phil was his first and oldest friend. 

They had fought in wars together, commanded armies, destroyed armies, fought side by side, back to back, for a thousand years. Techno had seen Phil on the battlefield, grinning and bloodied, carving through ranks with a violent elegance, and Techno had done the same. They were lethal, a sword and its matching knife. The Angel of Death and the Blood God had earned their reputations a thousand times over. 

Techno was the best man at Phil’s wedding, a bright event that involved exactly two guests and the priest. Phil braided Techno’s hair every time he asked, and in return Techno cleaned his wings. Phil stood on Techno’s blind side in every battle, and throughout every day, and warned him if someone approached. 

Empires crumbled by their hands. One century ago (near exact to the day, Techno realized with a bit of humor), they had decided to build one themselves, building something out of nothing. It was Techno who chose the snow, who decided to make it the  _ Antarctic _ Empire. Philza supported him every step of the way, and Techno installed himself as Emperor, and Philza as his Captain, his Advisor, his second in command. People flocked to the Empire, setting up towns and settlements and Techno watched as his impulse decision turned into something  _ beautiful _ . 

Techno grew a tolerance to the snow, and an intolerance to the sweltering heat of the Nether he was born in. He liked the snow. He wouldn’t have met Philza without the snow. 

-

Techno went to his room, and he went to sleep. Phil had asked him to not stay up too late, after all. 

Techno woke from a knock at the door. He groaned and stumbled out of bed. “This better be important,” he complained, opening the door. 

Ranboo cowered, and Techno immediately calmed his expression. “Hey, Ranboo,” he said. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I didn’t realize you were sleeping, I didn't realize it was that late, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, it’s okay. I only would have been mad if it was someone else. What’s up?” 

Ranboo shuffled his feet. “I- well, I wanted to ask- for something?”

“Anything you want,” Techno said immediately. “Are you alright?”

Ranboo laughed a little. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I just- um- wanted to ask if it was possible Tommy and Tubbo could come over again?”

“The L’manburgian kids?” Techno tried to remember which was which. He thought Tubbo was the polite one and Tommy was the shouty one. 

Ranboo nodded. “Yes! I, um, I really liked hanging out with them. If I have other duties, I completely understand, and-”

“Ranboo,” Techno interrupted. “You have my expression permission- no, wait. I am  _ ordering _ you to put any duties you may have to the Empire second to your desire to have friends and the building of your friendships."

Ranboo blinked. “Oh.”

“How soon do you want Tommy and Tubbo to come over?”

“I- I thought you didn’t like them-”

“Not relevant in the slightest.” Techno turned to the desk he kept in his room and pulled out a paper. “I can send a letter to Wilbur today. Unless you want to write?”

“I- thank you, Techno.” Ranboo’s ears perked up and he smiled. 

Techno and Phil had done their best with Ranboo, and Techno knew it was mostly Phil. But if Techno would admit to one failure, it would be that Ranboo hadn’t had any friends his age growing up. If he was willing to reach out to these teenagers, Techno was going to do everything in his power to let that happen. 

He knew what having a friend could do to your life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at the 100 kudos milestone* we're a 10th of the way there gang. seriously thank you so much for all the support this fic has gotten <3 exposition is kinda slow ik but i promise people are gonna start getting stabbed soon

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr: https://genderfluidtechnoblade.tumblr.com/
> 
> Longterm goal for this fic is to reach a thousand kudos! It would be the most kudos I've ever gotten on a fic, so be sure to SMASH that like button, and subscribe to get notified when I update!


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